2014.04.19 - Averting Cat-Wrath!
It's a somewhat warm, bright afternoon within Lower Metropolis at the moment. On one of the more fancy streets, a number of five star restaurants are on display, the sort one can expect to pay three figures for disturbingly small portions of food with disturbingly high quality. Shen Kuei is enjoying a brief outing, the Cat restless at best. He's come to enjoy sampling what wealth can bring, and is currently settled outside a Chinese-styled building; there's a large area with a meter high iron fence, ornately wrought, housing a dozen tables. He is dressed only in loose black slacks and a black silk shirt, flowing openly with half the top buttons undone. Upon it in beautiful design are vividly orange and black tigers, done in authentic Asian abstract in various states of assault. He's currently enjoying shrimp dumpling soup. Nostalgic tasting, twined around chopsticks expertly and spooned in his mouth. Through special order of sorts, it includes a small jug of jiuniang -- a type of sweet rice wine, normally sold by street vendors. Leave it to Shen Kuei to go to the greatest authentic Chinese restaurant in New York and ask for peasant dishes. Spring is great! The polar vortex has loosened its grasp on the world thus far, and Lunair is pretty okay with that. She has a backpack on, and was probably tending to plants or working out somewhere (hey, training with a ninja is hard work) over the spring break. And she feels kind of like lunch. Her car is parked somewhere nice and safe, so she travels on foot (seriously, finding a good parking pot sometimes feels like an epic quest...). Today, she's managed to get reservations to this Chinese restaurant. It's a chance for an interesting experience and awesome food. Why not? And to be fair to Shen Kuei, peasant dishes are often popular among the masses. She will end up being seated at a table nearby by a politely smiling hostess. Who keeps glancing at Shen Kuei. Lunair looks a little baffled, following the woman's gaze. Okay, guy has his top shirt buttons undone. Flowing silk shirts ARE pretty cool, but for her part, Lunair looks confused and glances to the hostess who glowers back. She shrinks a little in her seat. Actually, now that she looks at it, there's an awful lot of couples. A couple eating at a table gazing to Shen Kuei now and then. Really. He has a cool shirt and stuff... A pair of waiters. The hostess and the waitress in tow with a water pitcher. Lunair just remains puzzled until a menu is handed over. There's a tense weight in the air, holding one's breath before a plunge. Something. A breeze stirs, sending things fluttering. Obediently, Lunair peers at the menu. But it's hard to shake the feeling of assessing tension. Until a single syllable is whispered, The tearing of clothes as waiter's uniforms, a hostess' dress and two diners become hooded shadows of death. One woman who starts to scream is quickly silenced with a chop to the throat. They're going straight for Shen, four of them flanking him from each side, one from the rear and one from behind. They move swiftly, powerfully and are no less than very well trained. Some of the guests are still in disbelief, how swiftly and silently. What's going on? A movie? There is no hope for surprise here. Shen Kuei can already sense the honed chi of assassins. They are trying to suppress it, but not enough for him. He does not outwardly react, spooning another mouthful of the meal and taking a heavy drink of the sake. Chances are, he will not be getting back to it. A roll of the shoulders displays a flash of a tattoo across his chest to Lunair; the midsection and one paw of a black cat on lightly tanned skin. But the Cat's eyes suddenly darken, at the gurgling sound of a woman's throat slit. He stands up violently, kicking his chair backwards to spiral with unnatural force towards one of them coming from behind. It's solid metal, but would impact with almost a thousand pounds of force. He slowly exhales then, eyes closed, seeming to simply stand still as they descend towards him. Katanas drawn, weapons poised. And then his eyes snap open, and he moves. Rushing to the side, he weaves between the four attempting to flank, preventing himself from being circled. It's beyond what a human can; twice as fast as a peak one should. Chi courses through his body, a fierce blow aimed at a throat, the side of a knee, flowing into a sidekick into the ribs that would send a mundane person flying away. The fourth, he makes to elbow in the face, grasp his wrist, and in a twisting throw shatter his arm in multiple places while taking the katana in hand. Only to leap over to the downed girl, still grasping her throat and gurgling blood with her panicking date beside. Five sharp strikes with a finger follow on the hapless female's chest, and she shudders. Suddenly her heartbeat drops to ten per minute. The flow of blood a trickle. She won't die immediately. At least, not before he is done. "You've involved an innocent in our personal feud. This is now a blood battle to the death on both sides. Come at me, if you have the resolve." Lunair is fast, but her eyes widen as she spots the tattoo. Waaaaait a second. The Cat? I mean, at first she was a bit skeptical. She likes kitties. Cats are adorable. But lots of people forget that if they were the size of tigers, humanity would be completely doomed. And that for all of their silly, adorable ways that cats are actually incredibly fast, lethal animals. Ask any bird watcher, really. One of the ninja coming from behind gets nailed solidly by a chair. It's unpleasant, and likely the end of his career - even if he doesn't meet his end at Cat's hand. These ninja aren't fools, and they are remarkably fast in and of themselves. <... get ... the others!> The former hostess hisses to the ninja who got kicked in the ribs. They were knocked back a good number of feet, but it is a far cry from the flying a mundane person would do. The ones struck are reeling from their injuries, although the fellow with the shattered arm and lost katana is definitely making a rear advance. He's swiftly punished with a thrown shuriken to the throat. It seems the heavyweight here is the hostess in disguise. The other ninja out of the fight is the one downed by the blow to the throat. It is one of those underestimated injuries. He's wheezing and turning a bit blue. The downed girl's panicked date seems - grateful the flow of blood is slowed, but they are still very much panicked. One ninja is pinned, the side of her knee busted - possibly and probably permanently by the Cat. At this level, martial arts are not for those with fragile bodies. And Lunair seems less startled than she should be. She catches on. "Um. You probably don't need help but ..." Well, it's the noble thing to do, right? On top of it all, the last two ninja come from around the bar. One was at least polite enough to finish pouring a drink as his hood comes up and on. Carefully, a staff with a round circle that has a cat's ears and tails come out, and a shockwave will trip up at least one. That still leaves the Cat with an angry hostess and a fresh back up. And - the guy with the busted ribs is staggering off. The one with the broken arm is bleeding out due to his attempt to retreat. And chair guy? He's just seeing stars. For the time. The hostess is apparently a powerful mistress of martial arts, rushing at him with inhuman speed. And her backup is soon to follow. "I see. It's you." The Cat offers, looking towards the hostess. "You should not take such offense, when something that did not belong to you was taken." The katana's grip is shifted, held in one hand in an expert manner, worthy of Musashi himself. "Do not intervene. This is a matter of honor." is all the Cat says, offhandedly. Whether she lives or dies is secondary, really. They brought this to him, some personal grudge. And it has made him angry. Many people know of his prowess, but few know of his potential fury. Right now it simmers, but he can control it... keep it from being a distraction... although it will certainly not result in any mercy. His free hand suddenly snaps up, a literal blur like a striking snake. A four-point star whirls towards the man wielding the staff quick as an eyeblink, metal coated to not shine in the light. The aim to impact the left jugular, deep. Lunging forward, throwing stars hiss in his direction. He dodges a few of them, but suddenly shifts, extending a forearm. One that was already dodged sinks into his forearm. The reason becomes apparent -- it would have hit a fleeing civilian. And then he is upon the pair, katana striking down in a flash, impacting the sai with a noise like thunder. He attempts to lure the second into believing there is an opening at his right side. If this is taken, a swift and brutal swipe of the keen blade would end in an attempted attack leaving him without a head. "Yes," The hostess states. Her voice is cold, flat. "Tch. Who are you to make such calls?" She seems less than amused. Lunair pauses and nods. "Okay," She trusts this cat dude. And it's not as if interfering seems like a wise option. Not in the slightest. Nor does she want to be in the path of his anger. Especially not if he's bearing any resemblance to his namesake and tattoo. Cats of all sizes do not take anger lightly. And Lunair is going to stay behind her table now. The ninja's grudge is not placated easily. Staff man moves his staff to block, but it only nudges the star - not enough to avert its course. He gurgles as it lands in his throat. And collapses. Lunair's eyes are wide from her spot. Who needs kung fu movies? Although, she'll definitely have to tell her teacher what she's seen today. She winces in sympathy as his forearm has a throwing star dig into it. And the civilian is likely grateful, although the civilians with the ability and/or sense to have likely commenced fleeing or have fled. The hostess' second takes the opening at the right side. The noise like thunder doesn't phase him in the slightest. And in a way, it's a bit tragic. The hostess and ninja are very talented. Shame they are throwing themselves away (read: At Shen Kuei). And then the second finds himself in an ideal position to become a talk show host: Sans head. The hostess wails in rage and redoubles her efforts, speeding up as a rush of wind picks up. She is angry! A slow exhale flows from Shen Kuei once more, before he begins the whirlwind dance with the female martial artist. Vicious blows clang against katana and sai, kicks and strikes deflected and dodged and it seems as if the Cat is being driven back without any ability to reciprocate. Yet a keen eye would note not once does her weapon thrust close to actually hitting him. Patient. Calculating. Out of nowhere, his body shifts to whip into a brutal slash with both hands, but then stops the inertia dead in a split second before it might hit, entire form limp. If her sai was shifted to block, he'd instead slip the katana between two prongs and twist hard, stamping his left foot into the tile pattern hard enough to crack it. "KIAI!!" What follows is a brutal sidekick, well beyond the force of any human's base potential. Chi whirled with a mastery of kinetic motion amounts to multiple tons, and if it were to hit her ribcage, they would likely burst inwards, and send her all the way to the window of the restaurant a dozen meters away. It is a whirlwind dance, and she drives furiously. She is enraged by the loss of her second. Her subordinates range from dead to dying or at least resigned to teaching duties at most. She hates Shen Kuei, for whatever reason is held to these ninja. A hatred that fuels itself like a backdraft, billowing. Most would've crumpled beneath her fury and winds. She shifts to block, startled as the katana slips between and twists hard. His bellow and the brutal sidekick are a light in the fog that clouds her mind. You were lost to rage. And for better or worse, it only takes one mistake to decide a fight. Life flashing before one's eyes. Pain, outrage and sadness. So this is it, then. She will join the others... And wordlessly, she is kicked in the sides, bones broken and burst as she flies into the window of the restaurant. Any onlookers are stunned, and there's little doubt to the condition of the woman. Dead or dying at best. Lunair simply has a 'holy cow' expression on her face. What now? Ninja - the couple left who can move at all, are attempting to limp away. It will only be minutes before sirens start wailing in the distance. No attention is paid to those attempting to limp away. In a heartbeat, Shen Kuei is kneeling beside the downed woman, who's condition is still poor. He probes at the wounds with his fingers. "Slit open the trachea so she couldn't scream." he offers, grasping a straw from her drink and carefully inserting it into her windpipe. A gurgling sort of breath leaves her, wheezing. Shen Kuei then slowly gets to his feet, grasping the throwing star in his forearm and yanking it out, dropping it to clatter upon the ground. His breath is coming fast, but all he does is slowly reach into his back pocket. With the chaos now gone, an elderly Chinese man peeks out the back door. The Cat approaches him, bowing slightly. "My apologies for bringing this upon your establishment." He scribbles out a check, before handing it over. "This should cover the damages." He returns it into his back pocket, watching the defeated attempt to trudge away. There is no point in killing them, now. They have lost, spirits broken, and parts of their bodies, perhaps permanently. He returns to his table, finding his bowl of soup knocked off and broken, but his drink still upright. Picking it up, a slow, long drink follows, down to the last drop. Blink. Lunair is wide-eyed. And the ninja who are limping away are in no mood or ability to fight. It's hard to say if they'll recover. Like a child touching a hot stove, they probably learned first hand why one doesn't grab a cat by the tail. Luanir takes in a sharp breath as Shen pulls out the throwing star. She watches him and the defeated ninja limping away. She tilts her head and carefully approaches. The hostess turned ninja is likely breathing her last in the restaurant. Many, if not all of the civilian are gone. Lunair hesitates. What does she say that's not likely to get her drop kicked across the street? She looks thoughtful. Hmmm. "Um... if you wanted more soup as a thanks for keeping the ninja from murdering us all..." Pause. "Wait, that sounds rude." She's talented as a fighter, but desperately undersocialized. Still. She attempts to be polite. And his efforts are appreciated. The approach doesn't seem to cause the Cat to react much at all. His drink is carefully set back down, glancing to his wounded arm. He made sure it only pierced muscle; no nerves, tendons or arteries. Although it was a wound inflicted in defense of those uninvolved. "That particular clan had no interest in murdering everyone present. Only me. They had acquired a mystical artifact that the owner wished back. I did so, and in the act, that woman's father was crippled. She had every right to wish vengeance. But to do it so underhanded, with minions at her back, and involving those not affiliated with the martial world... I have no pity." "You are the only one who did not run. Why is that?" he wonders. Only the woman with the slit throat and her husband remains, although between the systemic control of her heartbeat and a makeshift breathing tube, she'll almost certainly survive. A hard look follows, but absolutely no recognition. Unsurprisingly. "You even offered aid. But you should know... I am no hero. Nor am I a villain." What is he, precisely? A lot of people probably wish to know that answer. Sirens are indeed heard, but the Cat makes no move to leave. He's legally allowed to be here, and despite his reputation there are no official legal sanctions on him. What he does is not reported to the police and the FBI, not filed with any governments. Otherwise, what sort of secret agent would he be? Lunair is cautious. She tilts her head. "I see," She murmurs. "Well, it's your fight and I'm no judge," She offers. Lunair is desperately undersocialized but she seems to grasp that idea of morality well enough. She is quiet as he speaks. And a bit surprised by his words. Her default expression is blank. She doesn't really seem to carry emotion well on her face. She looks to him. She peers over to him at his wondering. It takes her a moment of quiet thinking. At his hard look, she seems uncertain. "I don't know that many people truly fit those definitions. Most of us, of them, are ultimately human." A shrug. "More like mists and greys than -" Pause. "I don't know how to say it. Although, from what I saw of the fight and how you handled the lady with the injured throat, you don't strike me as evil. Even if some question if fighting is good or bad," She seems a bit odd. But there's a depth to her perceptions. She notices, even if she can't say it. She tilts her head, hearing the sirens. She's not too worried. Lunair has her nice, legal front. She's no secret agent. She's a hapless student who took cover during the fight. But it's hard for her to say why. Think. "As for why, I am uncertain. I rarely run away from fighting. I have to admit, you were really incredible." "I am a man of honor. Honor can be good and it can be evil. And I am a mercenary. Although I am particular about my jobs. If the job does not involve innocents, or the harm of innocents, I care not who pays me the money." He might not help someone retrieve a town-blowing-up deathray, but he might help a villain retrieve a blow-up-a-hero deathray. Depending on the money spent. "Oh? A compliment. I like to be complimented." Shen Kuei's smile is rather flirtatious, and one certainly couldn't say he lacks charm. "But what cat does not enjoy having it's ego stroked? Are they not God's manifestation of iron pride?" The bleeding from the shuriken is almost gone. Reflexive muscle tension caught it before it went very deep. Hardly even a flesh wound. "Many know me for my work in the field of espionage, but my true passion is the martial arts. Armed and unarmed. I have yet to meet an individual, mundane beyond training and technique, who is beyond a peer." That implies a tier of competency almost absurdly arrogant, but his tone is more empty than boastful. "...Although I am sure there is one out there. And I hope someday to find them." Lunair listens. She nods. She quirks a faint smile at the mention of mercenary. "That's a very old profession," She remarks. She doesn't seem to think ill of him for it. And that's a bit odd. Lunair herself is a mercenary, so - the whole pot-kettle thing must be big to her. "But that makes sense." She looks over her shoulder and then back to him. And she smiles back, trying not to turn a little red at it. "I suspect many do. But it's true. And to be fair, cats are pretty incredible at what they do." And what they do is lots! "They bonded with people over being adorable, and helping us by killing snakes and rodents." Things that are hard to kill by people. "You have to be pretty fast to go toe to toe with a cobra, yeah? So I guess they've earned it." Not to mention charming a supposedly more intelligent species into loving, adoring and at one point, actual worship. She seems surprised by how fast he's healing. She looks to his face as he speaks. She looks thoughtful. "I see. That must be awesome and sad all at once. The only people I really ever knew who are into martial arts are few. And even still, I could only think of one or two who could even go a round at you. Though, I haven't seen him in weeks. He's probably been super busy. Sorry." Frown. "I think that that sounds genuinely lonely in a way." Yes. There you go, Captain Social Skills. "Is that what you believe...? They bonded from being adorable?" Shen Kuei wonders playfully, settling back upon a chair as the sirens get louder. Witnesses have returned to the scene, watching the Cat with wide eyes. Some saw the short but brutal demonstration of his talents. It was self-defense, and with him saving a life, he'll likely be hailed as a hero for it. No matter. Fame is fame, in the end. "Thousands of years ago, the life of an animal was measured in whether it was useful enough to feed. Felines were tamed to hunt vermin. Many subsisted off it. It was those in Egypt that truly appreciated them. For they were graceful creatures, able to kill even a cobra, and physically was associated with Mafdet, goddess of justice and execution, and Bast. For this they were respected and even mummified in reverence to Bast. So divine were they, that even one killed in Egypt on accident would end in the death of the accuser, that even the word of the Pharoah could not stop if a mob enraged." A slow, sinuous sort of stretch follows. "Unlike dogs, the cat was worshipped and appreciated from afar for what they were. A dog was forged into a tool. I cannot claim to ever see a wolf lounge, king of a dozen miles, or feared so greatly as a Siberian tiger in the wild." "Yes. I've met a man who I call my equal. We've never settled things between us. Lady Shiva... I'm sure I'll cross her path some day, as well... Richard Dragon is another I would like to meet, before his age slows him too much. And the Bronze Tiger... well. Certainly two felines cannot stand at the apex of the world, mmm?" "Well. It's ONE reason," Lunair smiles up, going along with it. He is the hero today and she is just fine with that. She's enjoying chatting an besides, anyone who martial arts like that in an era of guns is definitely worthy of some respect. She nods. "Besides, cats have a lot of personality and they're pretty smart. People like companions and friends, too." She seems to think that, anyway. She nods as he goes on about the history of cats. She looks almost comical, quietly being an audience. "No. A wolf is not as scary as a tiger. A tiger waits for you," She thinks. That's how they found lots of fossils, now that she thinks about it. She shrugs and pauses. "I don't know." She seems a bit off, somehow. Her expressions don't match her tone. But she does seem to like kitties. And respect 'em. "And really?" She tilts her head. "I guess not. I haven't met them, though I heard briefly that Lady Shiva was in Gotham. I haven't heard much after that," She admits. "Sorry." She seems in awe, though. "Although, may I ask what you'd like to be called? I feel a bit rude not asking." "I'd be careful about insulting the prideful history of cats, young lady. I'm not the only one in this city who might take offense." Oh yes, imagine Catwoman and Shen Kuei descending at once. A bad day for all involved, most certainly. "Being the true companion of a cat is a great honor. It must be earned. It is not freely given. At least, one who still bears the wild soul of their ancestors..." How strange, that somehow Lunair is the social awkward, when Shen Kuei had an isolated, sequestered life for over twenty years of strict discipline, honor and etiquette, the only true social contact being the occasional lover. Then again, he's embraced his freedom, was taught well how to be a spy, and does have no small amount of intellect behind it all... "I'll run into one of them, some day or another. I suppose there's always Batman." A smirk; the playful, coy smirk of a feline. "Shen Kuei. Or the Cat. Both I hold with pride. But it seems the authorities are arriving. I would vacate, unless you wish to give your own witness statement on television. Not everyone wants their face shown on television..." Indeed, ambulances and police are on the street now, homing in quickly. "I'm not insulting them." Pause. "Not intentionally," She tilts her head. "So um. I'm sorry. I actually like cats," She admits. And she smiles. Lunair looks thoughtful. "I see." She seems to have been isolated by virtue of being sick and then having horribly lethal powers. At least she's friendly despite it. "Well. I'll bring my roommate's cat some salmon to make up for it maybe," A wry smile. She's a good sport about it. She doesn't seem to mind being awkward. Or she's kind of accepted it in stride. Lunair will probably never be entirely normal. She missed a lot as a kid. But either way, he's charming, she likes cats and it was cool to watch. She tries not to smile too much when he mentions Batman. "Oh. And pleased to meet you," She bobs her head respectfully. "And sure thing. No, I generally don't like being on camera. That - might mean the white vans again. But, I'm Lunair. Have a good evening." Wavewave. And she'll soon depart. Maybe to buy that penance salmon. "Whether you like tamed cats, or true cats, that is the question." Shen Kuei teases. Lunair; hmm. Lunair... that has a distant pang of familiarity, when he investigated those who 'worked' in this city. He'll have to look her up later. He flicks out a dark gray business card, with a black cat embossed on the outside identical to his tattoo. On the back is a number. "If you ever have need of my services, from massage, training, companionship, or the more subtle, this number leads to my intermediary. I assure you, I am worth every penny." Rather than hand it to her, he'd flick it smoothly through the air, to thump her chest unless plucked out of it. With that, he moves to stand and turns towards the arriving authorities. Well. Time to make his presence known in the city... he can thank the decimated group for that. Lunair smiles. "I wonder how tame even a tamed cat is," She considers. She apparently doesn't object to being teased. She carefully will reach out to catch the card. Lunair seems to have good hand-eye coordination at least. "Thank you! And umm... I'll keep that in mind," Her eyes widen a bit and she nods. "Or if I hear something relevant to your interests," She considers that. She is known to a point, although she does work under a code name (code name change in progress due to butts and a gentleman with a similar codename, alas). She waves to him and will head away. It seems Lunair prefers to stay out of the spotlight. But she does seem to believe his claims. A bit impressionable, this one. Category:Log